


Something Like the Truth

by rosa_himmelblau



Series: Truth Among the Lies [3]
Category: Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:15:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9893261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: Vinnie's trapped in a safe house with very little to pass the time.Fortunately, Sonny's bored.





	

"I still don't see why I couldn't go to Las Vegas with you," Theresa said, and if you didn't know better, you'd think she was simply asking for information, not complaining.

Sonny knew better. "Because it was business and I hate Vegas."

" **I** couldn't go because **you** hate Las Vegas?" Theresa asked, as though this somehow didn't make sense.

"Besides, I was only there a few hours. And you'd've had to meet Charlie Sorrell, and you wouldn't've liked that. And how would I have gotten you this?" He took a flat blue box from his jacket pocket and held it out to her.

Theresa took the box but didn't open it. Instead she held it, looking not at it but at Sonny, deciding whether to accept this bribe.

So Sonny took it from her and opened it, showing her the cluster of rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds.

Theresa gasped. "Sonny!"

He laughed and took the bracelet out of the box. "Compliments of Charlie. I converted his cabbage into rocks. Gimme your wrist."

She held her arm out and Sonny fastened the glittery bracelet on it.

 

"So where is he?" was Charlie's idea of a greeting when he called Sonny the next afternoon.

"Who is this?" Sonny asked, just to mess with him.

Charlie was offended by this. "Come on, Sonny, where'd he go?"

"Where did who go?" Sonny asked.

"Terranova! Where is he?"

"How the hell should I know?" Sonny asked. "Are you telling me you lost him?" They were talking about Vinnie like he was a missing cuff link.

"He disappeared the same day you were here," Charlie said. "Are you telling me he didn't go back with you?"

"What, like I accidentally packed him and didn't notice? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Well, he's gone," Charlie said. "I've got guys looking for him, but he's just disappeared, didn't take nothing with him. It's weird."

"It is," Sonny agreed with great sincerity. "I don't know why he'd leave like that. I hope nothing's happened to him." He was enjoying himself.

"What would have happened to him?" Charlie asked.

"How do I know? We live in dangerous times, we work in a dangerous business. I don't know why you're wasting manpower looking for him when you told me you didn't like him. I thought you wanted him gone. I'm surprised you even called me."

"Look, you're right, I didn't like the guy, but that doesn't mean I wished him ill. I was just thinking he might be happier someplace else—same as you did."

"Uh huh," Sonny said. Charlie was starting to bore him. "So maybe somebody did you a favor and relocated him for you. You didn't want him back, did you?"

"No," Charlie said. "No. You think that's what happened?"

"All I know is he's not here. If you want me to, I'll call you if I hear from him. It's been nice talking to you, Charlie," and he hung up.

 

"He lost his nerve," Sonny said as thought he didn't care one way or another. He stabbed his fork into a strawberry, lifted it to his mouth, and added, "What difference does it make?"

"It just surprises me you'd go someplace you hate to give him a recommendation after the way he ran out on you," Theresa said. She reached over, took the fork from his hand, and ate his strawberry.

"First, that's not why I went. I went so I could buy you a diamond as big as the Ritz with Charlie's money. Second, what difference does it make? He'd been in prison and he was scared of going back, so he took a powder. And third, you're not a part of my business, so I won't be consulting with you about what I do." They both knew that last part was a half-truth; Theresa was too smart not to consult, if Sonny wanted her input. But it was entirely his decision and he didn't want her thinking she had a real say. "I didn't even know what Charlie wanted when he called, except to give me a lot of money for a conversation."

"It worries me you haven't replaced him," Theresa said. She offered him back his fork and he took it.

"Theresa, I just told you—"

"I know, but hear me out." Sonny had the feeling that wasn't the last time he'd be hearing that phrase. "We're getting married. If you still don't have someone in Terranova's spot, it's going to look bad if you don't put Aldo there, and Sonny, you can't put Aldo there. He's loyal but he's not smart."

She was right about that. Not making your brother-in-law your right hand when there was a big, gaping vacancy was an insult. It didn't matter that he wasn't right for it and everybody knew it; it didn't matter he'd be a danger to himself and Sonny. The spot had to be filled before he could marry Theresa. And he wanted to marry Theresa.

Didn't he?

He loved her. She was smart, she was pretty, she told him the truth. And she loved him like crazy and she made him feel guilty. He kept trying to love her like she loved him, but he just didn't feel it.

He'd proposed to get her father's backing, to solidify his position, and because it was time. She'd make him the perfect wife. The problem was, he wasn't happy.

The problem was Vinnie.

It wasn't just that Vinnie was impossible to replace, it was that he was Vinnie. Sonny wanted to be with him because everybody else bored him now because nobody else was like him. He knew guys who were smart, but they weren't any fun. He knew guys who were fun to be around—Aldo could be fun to be around, when he wasn't auditioning for a position in his organization—but you wouldn't let them water your plants unsupervised. Nobody else had Vinnie's smart mouth or his guts or his eyes.

Not that his eyes were important, they were just pretty, and so what?

Sonny didn't want somebody else hanging around his office, not being Vinnie.

He was happy when he was with Vinnie.

"In a perfect world, I'd be your right hand," Theresa said, but idly, not like some women's libber.

In a perfect world, he could marry Theresa and have Vinnie back and not hide how he felt about him. The idea came into Sonny's mind so fast, for a second he didn't have time to realize how stupid it was. It felt good, thinking about being with Vinnie, having him be everything.

That was even less possible than making Theresa his second. Not that she wouldn't be good at it; she was right, she was perfect except for being a girl, and his soon-to-be-wife.

The big problem wasn't even Vinnie or Theresa, the big problem was that Sonny was bored. He used to love his life, running the casino and everything that went with it, but it just wasn't any fun anymore. It didn't feel any different being in his office than it felt being in his cell those eighteen months, except the view was better and the chair was more comfortable. But he felt trapped in both places. What the fuck was he going to do?

He smiled at Theresa. "Don't worry, I'll find somebody to take Vinnie's place. How hard can it be?"

 

After much consideration, the powers that be had decided that while Vince himself was A-OK, his situation was not. There had been a threat against his life. Therefore, he needed protection. Therefore, he needed to stay in the safe house until such time as something happened where they decided it was safe to let him back out in the big, scary, dangerous world. In other words, we're locking you up for your own good.

Vince tried to bear it with good grace. He spent a lot of time tallying up the "at leasts." At least the security level was low so there was no protective detail telling him to get away from the windows. At least he was allowed to go out in the small backyard and sit in the sun. The point seemed to be to keep him out of Charlie Sorrell's easy reach, but it didn't seem to anyone that Charlie was making an all-out effort to hunt him down.

And while Frank was there a lot, at least Frank had other, more important things to do, so he wasn't there all the time.

And at least Uncle Mike had elected to stick around, so Vince's alone-too-much paranoid blues didn't take over.

But he was bored.

 

When the phone rang in the middle of the night, Vinnie grabbed the receiver without thinking that the phone should not have rung because who would know this number or be calling? "Hello?"

"Is that you?" Sonny asked.

"Sonny? How did you get my number?" Before Sonny could answer, Vinnie said, "Wait, I know, you got an in with the phone company, a guy on the inside."

"Not a guy, a broad." Sonny said. "Always go for a broad. Don't you ever listen to me? I don't know how many times I told you this. They're more loyal and you can get more out of 'em."

"And all for seventy-nine cents on the dollar," Vinnie said. "Wait 'til the ERA gets passed."

He was impossible. "What're you, a women's libber? You gonna burn your bra? You tell smart girls they're pretty, you tell pretty girls they're smart, you act like you can't get through the day without their help and, bam!, they're handing you the moon."

"Don't talk so fast, I'm trying to write this down."

"Oh, shut up."

"Hey, you called me! What do you want, anyway?"

"I didn't read anything in the paper about you being dead, but I could've missed it. I wanted to make sure."

"What? Why would I be dead?"

"I got a weird call from Charlie about you disappearing."

"What's weird about that, you knew I was going to disappear."

"No, I didn't. The last time I saw you, I had no idea what you were going to do."

"Yeah, so you called my lifeguard. How did you get his number? Oh, I forgot, your in with the phone company."

"No, it's my hotel, I've got access to all the numbers called in the hotel, even on the pay phones."

"You're telling me after you got out of prison, you got old phone records and hunted for times you remembered me being on the phone, then wrote down my lifeguard's phone number?"

Put like that, it sounded kind of weird. "Knowledge is power," Sonny said in a serene tone.

"So you called to make sure I was still breathing and to share your philosophy of women in the workplace?"

"Go back to sleep."

"Yeah, you, too."

"Nah, I'm up for the day, I got things to do." Though right offhand, he couldn't think what they were.

After they hung up, Vinnie wondered if anybody was keeping track of his incoming calls.

 

When Sonny got off the elevator, Sally was waiting for him with a cup of coffee and a weird message. "Charlie Sorrell's on the phone for you."

"What does he want?" Sonny asked, knowing she wouldn't have an answer.

She just looked at him. "He asked if you'd mind talking to him."

Sonny nearly choked on his coffee.

"Should I put him through?" Sally asked.

"Yeah. Yeah." Sonny took his coffee to his office and sat down behind his desk.

"Charlie?"

"Sonny, thanks for taking my call." Charlie sounded didn't sound like himself. He sounded deferential.

"Yeah, sure, what do you need?

"Listen, Sonny, I just wanted you to know that if there's ever anything I can do for you, you call me, OK?"

"Yeah, sure," Sonny agreed. What the fuck?

"Well, I don't want to take up any more of your time. I'll talk to you later."

Sonny stared at the phone for a long time.

 

Vinnie squinted at the illuminated clock's numbers as he grabbed for the receiver. It was 4:39.

"Sonny, what do you want?"

"Charlie called me again."

"Just now?" Vinnie asked.

"No, this morning."

"This **is** this morning."

"Yeah, fine, yesterday morning. He called me at the office."

"So what?"

"So he didn't say anything. It was weird."

"What, did he breathe heavy at you? Giggle and hang up?"

"No! He thanked me for taking his call and told me if there was ever anything he could do for me, I should call him."

Vinnie thought about this. "Are you sure it was Charlie?"

"Of course it was Charlie! You think I don't know his voice? Who else would it be?"

"It just doesn't sound like him."

"That's my point," Sonny said sharply. "It was weird. I got no idea what's going on."

That was a startling admission, coming from Sonny, given to Vinnie who was a cop.

"OK, that **was** weird, but Sonny, why are are you calling **me**? And why in the middle of the night?"

"I wasn't sleeping," Sonny said.

"I was!"

"You sleep too much," Sonny said serenely, as though waking Vinnie up was doing him a favor. "And you know Charlie, so you know this is weird."

"It is weird," Vinnie had to agree. "Charlie doesn't do things for people. Half the time he doesn't even pay for stuff, he just bullies the guy 'til he goes away, or he has 'em beat up."

"Yeah, everybody knows that. I told Theresa you lost your nerve," Sonny said.

The abrupt change in topic confused Vinnie. "What? Why?"

"That the reason you skipped out on me was, you lost your nerve. That's what I told Theresa."

Vinnie tried to figure out why he'd care about that. "OK, thanks." He didn't know why he was thanking Sonny for this.

"You ever been to the French Riviera?" Sonny asked.

"Sure, nearly every summer our family went, if we didn't go to the chalet in Switzerland, didn't yours? What kind of question is that?"

"I was just wondering. I'm thinking of taking Theresa there for our honeymoon."

"Does either of you speak French?"

"No, you think that matters?"

"Not to me. Why don't you go to the Italian Riviera instead? You speak the language and you'd like the food."

"Good idea."

"Yeah, you need any help deciding what color the invitations should be, just call."

"They're purple," Sonny said. "You saw 'em. They'll just get reprinted with the new date."

Vinnie laughed. He knew Sonny wouldn't notice his sarcasm. "So when's the wedding?

"We don't have a date, Joey's still in the hospital."

"Did you really call me to ask for honeymoon advice?"

"No, I called to tell you about Charlie."

"Well, thanks for keeping me in the loop." Vinnie hung up.

 

Nothing interesting happened to either of them the rest of the day. At 3:35 a.m. Vinnie's phone rang.

"What?" Vinnie yelled into the receiver and in response, Sonny laughed. "Sonny, you can't call me. You're the enemy."

"No, **you're** the enemy. I'm trying to make peace."

"Oh, you've gone into a new line of work?"

"Hey, I run a casino, that's perfectly legal! It's even regulated by the government, so how illegal could it be?"

"And in your spare time, you collect stamps and help little old ladies across the street."

"I've never actually helped a little old lady across the street," Sonny admitted. "You want me to start?"

"I want you to tell me why you called me! It's the middle of the night!"

"Everybody else was asleep."

"Not everybody **else** —everybody! I was asleep, too! Sonny, what do you want?"

"Nothing," Sonny said. "What're you doing?"

"What am I—I was sleeping! You know I was sleeping! I just told you I was sleeping!"

"You wanna go back to it?"

"No," Vinnie said. It was the wrong answer but it was true. "Sonny, this is crazy, you gotta quit calling me!"

"Why?" Sonny asked.

"If you keep doing this, you're going to blow your guy at the phone company—a valuable resource—just because you're bored and you like bugging me.  Not to mention feds showing up on your doorstep, which I know you don't want."

"You don't want to talk to me anymore?" Sonny asked.

"That's not the point."

"I can always get another phone broad, the phone company pays lousy.  And I'm good at not talking to cops, so go ahead and send McPike over.  What I'm asking you is, do you want me to quit calling you?"

"Does it have to be in the middle of the night?" It was the wrong answer.

"That's when nobody's around," Sonny whispered.

 

Vinnie shivered thinking about Sonny's answer.  He knew perfectly well Sonny could find some time in the daylight hours if he wanted to; he liked the intimacy of the dark better.

So did Vinnie, which was why he wished Sonny wouldn't do it.

He wondered when somebody would notice Sonny was calling him.

 

Sally had started meeting him at the elevator with coffee when he came back after his stint inside and Sonny liked the new routine. He wasn't crazy about this new inclusion of the message that Charlie was waiting to talk to him.

Sonny went to his office. "Charlie," he said into the phone.

"Sonny, I've been thinking. I know how much you always admired Texas Carla—"

Sonny stopped in the middle of slitting open an envelope, baffled. Who was Texas Carla?

"Sonny, she's yours. I want you to have her."

Charlie was giving him a broad? What the hell? "You're giving me—" Sonny asked, hoping Charlie would explain himself.

"She's only two years old, she's a beautiful filly, you'll love her. I'll make all the arrangements, you just tell me where to send her."

A horse. That was a relief.

"You're a good friend, Sonny."

Yeah, Sonny thought, but I'm not your friend and I don't want to be. And I don't want your horse.

 

Sonny was laughing when Vinnie picked up the phone. "Charlie gave me his horse!"

Vinnie took the receiver away from his ear and stared at it.  "Who is this?"

"Quit kidding around."

"You're insane.  What do you mean, Charlie gave you a horse?"

"Not a horse, **his** horse, Texas Rose."

"Carla," Vinnie corrected.

"You know his horse's name?"

"I worked for him for over a year and he only talks about three things—Omaha steaks, the first time he got laid, and Texas Carla."

"Omaha steaks?" Sonny asked.

Vinnie yawned. "He goes through a dozen a week. The man's a coronary waiting to happen."

"I've known him twenty years, I've never heard him mention steaks."

"Probably because he doesn't share.  He caught a busboy feeding some of the scraps to a cat and went all Captain Queeg on him, fired the poor kid an' told me to rough him up."

"What did you really do?" Sonny asked.

"I took him out in the alley, gave him a hundred bucks, and told him I was only going to break his nose but he should pretend like I bruised his ribs.  I was just glad I didn't hafta hunt down the cat."

Sonny laughed. "You come back here, I'll buy you a freezer full'a Omaha steaks and you can feed 'em to all the strays on the boardwalk." Sonny's voice was frighteningly seductive as he made this ridiculous offer.

"Yeah, that's real tempting," Vinnie said and yawned.  "What're you gonna do with a horse? You gonna be a cowboy?"

"You want it?" Sonny asked.

"Sure, why not. I'll keep it in my room, my ma won't mind." Vinnie yawned again.

"Am I boring you?" Sonny asked.

"I was sleeping." Vinnie yawned again. "He didn't say why he was giving you Texas Carla?"

"He said he knew I always admired her," Sonny said. "Admired her! I'd forgotten all about the nag. What color is it, anyway?"

"Black with white feet and a white spot on her head."

"Is that good?" Sonny asked.

"I dunno. Does it make any difference?"

"I just wondered. They eat a lot, don't they?"

"They eat like horses," Vinnie said, so seriously it took Sonny a minute to laugh. "The hooker was from Abilene."

"What hooker?" Sonny asked.

"Charlie's hooker, the one who took his cherry. She was from Abilene and her name was Carla. Charlie gave you a horse named after a hooker."

"I didn't want to know that," Sonny said. "And I don't want a horse! He should'a given me a freezer full'a steaks!"

"Don't tell me, tell Charlie." Another yawn. "I'm going back to sleep," Vinnie said and hung up.

 

When he stumbled out of bed near noon and found Uncle Mike in the kitchen, Vinnie knew something was up. "'Morning, Uncle," he said. "What're you doing here?"

That was when Frank came in with the morning paper.

"'Morning, Frank," Vince said, pretending to be pleasantly surprised. "I wasn't expecting you."

Frank scowled at him, not returning his greeting.

"Coffee's ready. Why don't we all sit down?" Uncle Mike suggested.

"Sure, Uncle." Vince took a chair next to him. Frank glared at the remaining empty seat. "You mad at that chair, Frank? You want to take this one instead?"

Frank sat down. Uncle Mike set cups of coffee in front of them.

"We've got a problem, son," Uncle Mike said.

"You mean I'm causing a problem. What did I do now?"

"You've been having late night chats with Sonny Steelgrave." This was the first thing Frank had said.

"What, have you got my phone tapped?" He wasn't really surprised, but he wanted to get off the defensive.

"The line's monitored," Uncle Mike said apologetically as Frank snapped, "Somebody has to keep an eye on you!"

Since Frank had officially fired the first shot, Vince was free to fire back. "And lucky for me, my friendly, local FBI was there to do the job! I thought I was here for my protection, not to be monitored."

"We're worried about you, son." Uncle Mike could hardly be heard over Frank's yelling.

"Don't be so offended, this is an FBI safe house, monitoring calls is SOP! What are you doing taking late night phone calls from Sonny Steelgrave? You need to tell us what is going on!"

"Sonny called me a couple of times." Vinnie said.

Frank's "Oh, is that all?" dripped sarcasm. "In the middle of the night?"

"Yeah." He hoped he wasn't blushing. There wasn't any reason to, the conversations had been strange, but not intimate, unless you counted Sonny's voice in his ear while he lay in bed in the dark intimate when all they were doing was squabbling.

Uncle Mike's "Why?" was harder to answer.

"I don't know!" Vince said, and on one level that was true. "He told me about a horse Charlie Sorrell gave him." That was something tangible, anyway. That wasn't Sonny asking him what he thought of the French Riviera.

"What?" Uncle Mike asked.

"The guy that was going to kill you gave Steelgrave a horse?" Frank clarified.

"Why?" Uncle Mike asked. He'd been reduced to one-word interrogatories.

"No idea. He's been calling Sonny a lot."

"In the middle of the night?" Frank asked.

"No! Why would Charlie call him in the middle of the night?"

Frank and Uncle Mike answered him with a long, eloquent silence. After that they argued until dinnertime.

 

"Three times. He called you three times," Frank said for at least the tenth time.

"I know that, Frank, I was there."

"Then stop saying 'a couple.' 'A couple' is two."

"It's idiomatic, Frank. A couple can mean 'a few.'"

"I do not believe I'm hearing this conversation," Uncle Mike said.

"I still haven't heard a satisfactory answer to my question. Why did I have to find out about this from an FBI tech instead of from my field agent?"

"Because there was nothing to tell," Vinnie said. "Sonny was just messing with me."

"That's your analysis," Frank said. "And your summary of these conversations has been sketchy."

"Sketchy as in a brief outline, or sketchy as in shady?" Vince asked.

Uncle Mike laughed until Frank's glare made him stop.

"Vince, what the hell is going on?"

"He's bored," Vinnie said.

"Bored," Frank repeated. "He's bored."

"And he likes me." That was an understatement, but he was not telling them that. And Frank was part of them. And so was Vince, except sometimes. He deliberately didn't meet Uncle Mike's eyes. 

"You put him in prison," Frank said.

"Yeah, I did. I don't know how to explain it—I can't explain it, but Sonny likes me."

"He possibly saved Vinnie's life," Uncle Mike put in. "You have to admit, Frank, that's pretty good evidence that Steelgrave does like Vinnie."

"It's just the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Frank said, and Vinnie kind of had to agree with him.  
"So, Charlie Sorrell gave him a horse."

"Yeah."

"Because—?"

"I don't know. Sonny doesn't know."

"You're sure about that?"

"I know Sonny pretty well," Vinnie said. "Besides, what's the percentage in telling me this but not telling me why?"

"What's the percentage in telling you anything?" Uncle Mike asked.

"I know Charlie and I'm not a threat. Who else could he ask? Besides, he's used to asking me stuff."

"You'd think he'd've gotten over that in eighteen months," Frank muttered.

"No kidding, but that's not what happened."

"This is suspicious," Frank said.

"I don't know if it's suspicious, but it's definitely weird. Charlie doesn't even like Sonny. And he loves that horse."

"But he just gave him his horse out of the clear blue sky." It was as though Frank simply could not wrap his mind around this.

"As far as I know at the moment, Frank, yes."

"We're moving you tonight," Frank said.

 

"I don't understand," Theresa said. "It was your idea to go to France."

"But they speak French," Sonny said.

"You must have known that," Theresa said. She was very puzzled.

"You don't speak French. I don't speak French."

"It's a tourist resort," Theresa said. "Some of them must speak some English. And I'd like to see Cannes."

"It's just casinos and hotels and beaches," Sonny said. "We don't have to fly across the ocean to for that, we can just go out on the boardwalk."

"It was your idea," Theresa said again, quietly, reproachfully. When he didn't reply, she added, "We don't have to go anywhere you don't want to."

Fuck. Female jujitsu. He didn't even know why he was doing this, what the hell did he care, it was a honeymoon, the action would all be in the hotel room. He took her hand, gave her a smile. "We'll go to Cannes. If we don't like it, we can always leave."

She smiled at him and kissed him, but there was something in her eyes.

 

Sonny had thought about giving Theresa the horse, but fuck it, if he wanted to give her a horse, it wouldn't be Charlie Sorrell's used horse. He didn't want a horse; Vinnie was right, he wasn't a cowboy. "And they eat like horses," he said to himself and laughed. He hit the intercom button and told Sally to get Charlie on the phone. That was another thing Vinnie was right about.

"Sonny! Thanks for calling!"

Sonny was beginning to miss the old Charlie. He didn't like him, but this kiss-up Charlie was annoying.

"Yeah, look, I've been thinking about Texas Carla."

"You found a place for her?" Charlie asked, and did he sound disappointed?

"No, look, I'm really grateful, but I can't take your horse. You love that horse and—" he was going to say, "she loves you," and then he did say it, stupid as it sounded. "She wouldn't be happy here."

"Sonny." Was Charlie crying? It sounded like it. Jesus. He had made Charlie Sorrell cry. "I can't tell you what this means to me. But you have to let me do something for you, Sonny, you solved a big problem for me—"

And that's when Sonny tweaked.

 

Vince had been moved to a more secure location in a different neighborhood with actual security, a less-comfortable bed, smaller windows, and no basement. Basements, apparently, were less secure. Who knew? He could not get anyone to believe that Sonny calling did not equal a threat to his life, let alone that Sonny would not be hiding in a basement.

Frank said they hadn't had the phone tapped, but they were checking the numbers. Frank said that was SOP, and maybe it was, but Vince was pretty sure that the phone was tapped now, though nobody would tell him that. Half the reason for the upgrade in security was concern for Vinnie's safety, but he knew the other half was that they were worried that he might be compromised—which he was, but it didn't have anything to do with his work. If it did, he'd have helped Sonny get away, not testified against him. They didn't completely trust him, but they didn't want him thinking they didn't trust him completely. He hoped Sonny didn't say anything that would get him picked up and Vinnie sent back to Quantico. Because Sonny was going to call again.

Frank's first idea was to have the phone turned off. Not just the phones unplugged and taken out of the house, but the phone company disconnect the number. Vince talked him out of it.

"Don't be ridiculous, you think I need to be protected from Sonny talking to me?" That wasn't really ridiculous, but he wasn't going to tell Frank that. "Besides, you want him to call me again."

"Really? Why is that?" He folded his arms and waited.

"He already told me about Charlie coming after me.  Who knows what else he might give me."

"And you don't think he'll catch on?"

"What, catch on?  He knows what I do, and he knows what he's doing.  He sounds disenchanted, Frank.  Things were fun when I was around and now they're dull.  Talking to me is fun, especially when he's not supposed to be.   Sonny knows a lot of stuff and there a lot of guys he doesn't like."

"Vince, I've read his debriefing files.  Steelgrave was very specific about what he would and would not tell us.  Giving us info about cops, judges, he was happy to do that.  But he wouldn't even tell us what he knows about Patrice, and he was planning on killing the guy! What makes you think these late night calls will be any different?"

"Because I'm not asking him anything. And there's a difference between cops questioning him and spontaneously telling me stuff he's not supposed to. It's **fun.** " He emphasized the word hard. "He doesn't think of me as a cop."

Frank looked at him for a long time.  "As long as you keep thinking of yourself as a cop, sport.  Because it worries me how happy this is making you. You talk about Steelgrave liking you, but you don't mention that you like him."

"You don't want to hear that," Vince said.

"You're not supposed to leave out the things you think I don't think I want to hear."

"Yeah, but it's hard to go from being a weather vane to being a lightning rod," Vince said.

"What?"

"When you're undercover, you're a weather vane, you mirror the mark, say what he wants to hear."

"You didn't do that with Steelgrave, you argued with him all the time," Frank observed.

"Because he liked arguing with me. He still likes arguing with me. In Sonny's position, not a lot of people do that, but it makes you weak if you surround yourself with yes men. In my regular life, I can take it, I can handle the lightning strikes. But when I'm in weather vane mode, I have to turn that off. And dealing with the guys at Quantico is just another undercover gig."

Frank raised his eyebrows, not verbalizing his question.

"You do it too, you know. You say you want me to talk to you, but you all act like nuns talking about sex."

"I beg your pardon?" Frank said.

"We all know there are shades of gray, but you act like if you don't mention it, I won't find out. And you jump on me any time I mention it. What that tells me is, don't mention it, which means if I have a problem, the last thing I'm going to do is come to you for help. Your standards are just as ridiculous as Sonny's or Charlie's, as far as loyalty goes. Mention you saw a shade of gray and they put it in your permanent file."

"So you had to find out about shades of gray in the street," Frank said dryly.

"Trapped here, I feel like I'm not really out yet, Frank. This isn't my turf, I can't just leave—why would I feel trusting?"

"You've got a point," Frank said, but not like he really agreed with Vince.

"Besides, there's another reason we need Sonny to call again."

"What's that?"

"To find out why Charlie gave him that stupid horse."

 

Of course Vinnie had a hard time falling asleep, but he was dead to the world when the phone finally rang.

"Sonny, what do you want?"

"What kind of way is that to answer the phone?" Sonny asked. "Wha'd you change your number for?"

"They moved me. You're not even supposed to be calling me."

"Who says?"

"Nobody has to say, I'm in a safe house in DC, nobody's supposed to have the number. You're part of what they're keeping me safe from, you're not supposed to call me up to chat."

"What do you mean, I'm part of what they're keeping you safe from?" Sonny demanded. "I saved your life!"

"You want I should put you in for a medal?" Vinnie asked. "Why do you have to keep calling me in the middle of the night?"

"I knew you'd be there."

"I'm always here, they won't let me leave!"

Sonny laughed. "Besides, everybody else is asleep. When are they gonna cut you loose?"

"I don't know. Maybe never. Things are weird. They don't understand why you keep calling me."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, you're bored," Vinnie said.

"Yeah, that's it," Sonny agreed and Vinnie was relieved. Sonny knew he wasn't the only one listening. "I called Charlie today and told him to keep his horse."

"Yeah? What'd he say?"

"He cried."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope, I told him the horse would miss him and he cried. But he still wants to do something for me. You wanna know why?"

"Of course I want to know why!"

"He thinks I did him a favor." Sonny was trying not to laugh.

"He **thinks** you did him a favor?  What does that mean?"

"He thinks—" Sonny broke off, now really laughing.  "He thinks I dusted you for him!"

"He what?" Vinnie knew he couldn't have heard him right.

"He thinks I killed you for him!"

"Is this a joke?" Vinnie asked.

"No, Charlie's just an idiot. When he called to ask if I knew where you were, I was messing with him and I told him maybe somebody did him a favor and took you out. Next thing I know, I'm getting a horse I don't want. Now he owes me a big favor."

"What's going to happen if he finds out I'm not dead?" Vinnie asked.

"I dunno. I never said I dusted you, I gave him back his horse. It's not my fault he's an idiot."

"Great, between Charlie wanting me dead and you violating OCB security, I'm gonna be locked up here forever," Vinnie said. He hung up on Sonny.

 

At breakfast the next morning Vince told Frank, "Sonny called last night."

"Yeah, we know." Frank didn't sound interested. He opened his newspaper 

"Have you already listened to the conversation?" Vince asked.

"I'm not listening to anything, the techs will go over it and inform Elias if there's anything we need to know."

"Elias isn't going to tell you about this. He won't think it's important."

"Is it?" Frank asked absently.

"Nah, maybe not. You're not interested in Charlie's horse. I'll tell Uncle Mike about it later."

Frank looked around his paper. "What about the horse?"

"Nothing. Sonny gave it back." Vinnie reached over and snagged a section of the paper.

"Are you pouting?" Frank asked.

"No. I just don't want to bore you. And you probably will hear about it later."

"All right, let's have it. What happened with the horse?"

"Sonny gave it back. But he did find out why Charlie gave it to him." Vinnie kept his paper up and counted to ten. When he lowered it, Frank was glaring at him.

"Well?"

"Charlie thinks Sonny killed me for him, so he gave him his horse."

Frank just gaped at him. "He thinks what?" Vinnie didn't repeat himself. "So your life is worth a racehorse?"

"She's not a racehorse, she's just a horse."  Frank just stared at him. "What? I spent a year and a half with the guy and he talked about the nag all the fucking time!  I'm an expert on Charlie Sorrell, I could teach a class in him."

"And you will," Frank said.  "I've got you slotted to spend next week with the new agent we're sending in."

"And where will I be?" Vinnie asked.

"Where will you be?" Frank asked back.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't live in DC, I live in Brooklyn. When do I get to go home?"

"Not for a while. Once you're done with the the new agent, you'll be heading for California. I've got a new assignment for you."

Vinnie sighed. "Thanks, Frank."

 

That night, Vinnie called Sonny.

"I'm going to California."

"I'm going to Cannes." Sonny said. "But I'll be coming back."

"I hope I will be, too," Vinnie said.

"Yeah, me too," Sonny said. "Hey, what're you doing calling me in the middle of the night?"


End file.
